Becoming Me
by Evangeline1
Summary: Short vignettes. Takes place after 'As You Were.' S/D friendship and also S/B. Sorry, fixed mistake in Chapter 3.
1. Hope is a Thing with Feathers

Becoming Me:  
Hope is a Thing With Feathers  
by Evangeline

Spike dropped into the lower level of his crypt, angrily picking up an empty liquor bottle and hurling into at the wall. Groaning, he ran his long fingers through his bleached hair, upsetting the slicked back curls.

Why did he even bother with Buffy? The girl was disgusted by him and what she was doing with him, or so she claimed. Laughing ironically, he mentally berated himself. Oh yeah, Buffy really loved him, which is exactly why she turned his crypt into one of her attempted dinners.

"Yeah, that explains her visit," he chuckled to himself. "She didn't say, "It's over," she said, "I love you, Spike." He let out another choked laugh before dropping onto the charred remains of his bed. The red silk sheets had large holds where the fire had burned through. Those were his favorite sheets. Sighing heavily, he turned towards the large wooden chest. It was partially burned through on one corner. How much of his world had the fire claimed?

Snapping over the latch, he lifted the curved lid, feeling his stomach sink. If he was lucky, he might be able to save a few photographs. Everything else was virtually untouched. Pulling out the pictures, he sat back down on the bed to sort through them.

Tossing aside the first few, he smiled at one particular photo, one of his family, his mother, father, and the original Nibblet, Rosalyn. It was black and white, like all of his photos, and worn yellow at the edges from years of handling, but it was untouched by the fire. He started another pile on the bed. The next picture was of his first love, Cecily. Her brown locks curled gently at her shoulders and around her heart-shaped face. The fire had worn a large whole near the corner, but it was salvageable. He continued through the pcitures. He would have to throw away most of them, but they were, after all, just pictures of cities he had visited with Drusilla.

Still, he was pained to throw out one picture in particular, a close-up of Rosalyn. She had looked so pretty that day. Only fifteen at the time the picture was taken, she smiled shyly at the camera, uncharacteristic of most pictures of the time. Her long chestnut locks were pulled back into an intricate web of braids so as to keep them away from her beautiful blue eyes and rosy cheeks. He closed his eyes, reminiscing. Rosalyn was always so full of life before the fever caught her.

He placed the bad photographs on the nightstand, making a mental note to find a box so that they could throw them out. Walking back over to the trunk, he did a once-over of the rest of the contents. Everything else seemed fine and undamaged.

Glancing again at the photograph of Rosalyn, he decided he wasn't going to let the picture go. He pulled out a sheet of paper and a pencil before settling down to copy the photo. His skillful fingers slowly but surely recorded Rosalyn's young face in gray. He was so entranced in what he was doing that he didn't even hear anyone enter the lower level of his crypt.

"Who's that?" someone whispered playfully near his ear.

He jumped, dragging the pencil jaggedly across the paper. "Bloody hell, Nibblet! Don't do that!" He placed the pink rubber end to the paper to erase all evidence of his surprise.

"Sorry," she grinned mischievously. "But you were really out of it, and it's not every day I see you surprised."

"Why are you wet, Dawn?" he asked seriously, ceasing his erasing.

"It's raining outside, Spike. A big thunderstorm started while I was only my way here so I ran the rest of the way."

"What are you doing here in the first place, Bit? Isn't it past your bedtime?" he accused pointedly.

"I didn't feel like staying in the house. Buffy's been acting all mopey since she found out Rily was married. " Spike silently stored away that little tidbit about Captain Cardboard, letting her continue. "What happened down here?" she asked, finally noticing the room.

"Nothing, Nibblet."

"Yeah, that's what I thought because it really looks like nothing." She gave him a pointed look. "Buffy did this, didn't she? God, Spike! Why do you let her do these things?"

He shrugged and contined on his drawing. "I can't help it, Nibblet."

"So, who is she?" Dawn asked again, sighing. "And why are you drawing her?"

"Well, sweet pea, this was the original Nibblet, my lil sis Rosalyn, and I'm drawing her because this photograph was ruined when my place got blown to hell." He gestured to the wrecked room.

"She's really pretty," Dawn commented. "How old is she here?"

"She's fifteen, like you," he told her. "You remind me of her."

Dawn smiled at this, settling herself across from him on the bed, picking up the discarded pictures to look through. "Tell me about her."

"Well, petal, Rosie was born when I was six years old, and I thought she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, besides my mum, of course." Dawn grinned and held up his family picture. "Swore to myself I'd take care of her. Rosie was so smart, even for a woman. She liked art, like you. She would set out some flowers to paint, and I would read to her, Wordsworth, Keats, Byron, it didn't matter, anyone. She caught scarlet fever when she was sixteen." He frowned. "It got so bad that we couldn't even afford to buy the medical attention she needed because my father had died a couple years before. I watched her while she was in pain. She died in the early morning as I read to her." He stopped talking and pulled out another sheet of paper.

"I'm sorry, Spike."

He shrugged. "It was a long time ago."

"What were you reading?" Dawn asked again, nosily.

""She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways" by Wordsworth." He snorted. "Fitting, I guess."

"How?"

He recited as he drew. ""She dwelt among the untrodden ways/ Beside the springs of Dove,/ A maid whom there were none to praise/ And very few to love:/ A violet by a mossy stone/ Half hidden from the eye!/ --Fair as a star, when only one/ Is shining in the sky./ She lived unknown and few could know/ When Lucy ceased to be;/ But she is in her grave, and oh,/ The difference is to me!"" He snorted again. "That was her favorite poem. She liked the whole Lucy series."

"My English class is working on poetry right now," Dawn said, trying to steer the conversation away from Rosalyn. "We have to do a big report on a poem complete with a critical analysis. My poet is Emily Dickenson. We get to choose our own poems."

"That's a good choice," he murmured, his pencil skimming over the paper. "What poem are you doing?"

"I think I'm going to do "Hope Is a Thing with Feathers." It's pretty and it rhymes."

Spike smiled at her playfully, a grin reserved only for his Nibblet gracing his handsome features. "Oh really?"

"Yes! "Hope is a thing with feathers/ That perches in the soul/ And sings the tune without words/ And never stops at all.""

"Well, that didn't rhyme," Spike stated.

"The other stanzas do, but I can't remember them. And the only reason the first stanza doesn't sound like it rhymes is because I don't have a stupid British accent like yo-"

Dawn was interupted as the door to the lower level snapped open and Buffy dropped in, shaking a dripping black umbrella.

"Thanks for bringing the rain in, Slayer."

Buffy barely awknowledged him. "Dawn, what are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Talking to Spike, what's it look like?" Dawn shot back.

"Dawn, it's late," Buffy sighed.

"I used to do this all the time over the summer, when you were-away."

"Well, it's not the summer anymore, and it's still late. You need to be in bed."

"Spike would have walked me home!" she protested.

"Dawn, let's go now," Buffy said firmly.

"Fine!" Dawn snapped and turned back to Spike. "I'm sorry."

He smiled softly at her. "No worries, Sweet Bit. For you." He turned around the sheet of paper for her to see.

Gasping at her own face, Dawn squealed, throwing her arms around his neck in a tight hug. "Thank you!" She kissed his cheek. "You didn't even tell me you were drawing me!"

Grinning, he reached into the trunk and pulled out a leather-hide folder. Emptying the contents, he slipped the drawing in. "So you don't get it wet."

She smiled at him before following Buffy up the ladder. "Bye Spike, I'll see you later."

He smiled to himself at his unbelievably Sweet Bit. She made everything worth it. There was no way he could leave now.

He turned back to his crypt and sighed.

"Hope is a thing with feathers, huh?"

~finis~

I am thinking about making a series out of this. This is my first Buffy fic although I've written plenty of other fics (anime). Am I any good? Please R&R. 

*All standard disclaimers apply.


	2. Lilies

Becoming Me:  
Lilies  
by Evangeline

Dawn snapped the cover of her journal shut. She had let Spike read sections of her diary before, the creative writing parts. He had suggested that she try to get them published, help her sister out with the money. Maybe she should do that.

After Riley's visit, Buffy was left, once again, unemployed. Guess the Doublemeat Palace wasn't too fond of their employees leaving in the middle of a shift with old boyfriends that dressed like the Men in Black. Dawn sighed. Things weren't looking too good. She barely saw Buffy as it already was, what with the Slayage and her job.

She glanced at the sketch Spike had drawn of her a couple days earlier. Buffy had been vehement about her visiting. Why was she acting like this? It had seemed like they were being friendly to each other when Buffy first got back. Why the sudden 360? Glancing back at the journal, she picked it up and headed to the computer.

***

Buffy sat at the dining room table across from Willow, head in hands. A pile of unpaid bills sat in front of her. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

Willow at her friend sympathetically. "Buff, I wish I could help more with the bills and stuff, but I'm already on a tight budget as it is with college expenses and stuff." Buffy had been flooded with expenses for her own funeral and the broken pipe system. "I think it'd be best if I moved back to the dorms. I could go home for a while; it'd lighten up your expenses a bit."

Buffy looked up at her red-headed friend through her lashes. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah! It'd be no problem. Resolve face." She flashed Buffy her serious expression. "It looks like you've got enough problems without me. I can start packing tonight." Willow smiled in reassurance.

"Thank you, Will. You don't know how much I appreciate this." She looked back down at the bills. "But first things first. Time to go job scouting." She reached for the Classified section.

"Buff, er ... you might want to stay away from the food business. That didn't really work anyway."

"That's for sure." She began skimming the ads.

"And you might want to get a job during school hours ... you know, so you can spend more time with Dawn ..." Willow bit her bottom lip nervously.

Buffy looked up and put her paper down. "You're right. I really do need to spend more time with her. Things have just been so busy lately."

"We all know that, and we don't blame you. We're all just trying to do our own part." She smiled in support.

"So ... any job ideas?"

***

Dawn sat in the Magic Shop. It had been a couple weeks since she had sent off her poem to some contest she found online. She had told Spike, and he asked to see her short little vignette, but she had refused. She didn't want to jinx it.

It was the first day of Buffy's new job. Willow found her a job opening at the post office, and the best part about it all was that Buffy would get to spend more time with her.

As if to answer her thoughts, the bell above the door jingled and Buffy came walking through. She was wearing her own clothes, much to her content, and carrying a black, one-strapped backpack.

"Hey Dawn." She looked up at Anya. "Thanks for watching her." Anya smiled in return.

"How's it going, Buff?" Xander asked in greeting.

Buff inhaled deeply and smiled. "Great, I actually like this job a whole lot better than my last one."

"That's great to hear."

"Yeah it is. I mean, I have to deal with people all the same, but they don't bother to stay in there long. And the pay isn't half bad. I start off at $8.50, and I only work five days a week. I guess it's the whole overpaid government workers thing." She let out a chuckle. "That and the benefits. Plus, the computer system isn't hard at all. I was worried about crashing the system." She grinned. "And I don't have to wear an awful uniform."

Dawn quickly packed up her stuff. "That's really great, Buffy." The two started to leave, throwing a couple goodbyes over their shoulders. "Willow said to call her. She wants to hear about your first day on the job."

Buffy nodded. "How was school?"

Dawn shrugged. "The usual, trying not to fall asleep in math class and checking out the hot guys at lunch with Janice."

"That good, huh?" Buffy grinned.

"Much better than usual. Oh! And guess what?" Dawn jumped next her sister in excitement.

"I'm drawing a blank. I give up."

"That one guy I really like, you know, Sean? I've mentioned him lots of times before. Anyway, he asked me to the Sweetheart Dance on Friday." Her eyes immediately largened into her patented puppy dog look. "Please can I go, Buff?"

"I don't know, Dawn-"

"We'll have chaperones, lots, and I promise not to wander out in the middle of the night. Please? I won't ask you for anything else in a long time, I promise."

Buffy grinned. Her sister sounded like a five year old. "Is it formal?"

Dawn squealed and threw her arms around Buffy. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Buffy's smile widened and she hugged Dawn back. Her mood was definitely improving. "But I have to meet this guy first."

"Sure, anything."

"And you didn't answer my question." Buffy lifted an eyebrow. "Is it formal?"

"Semi." Dawn frowned. "What am I going to wear?" She shot a look at her sister. "We ... can't afford to buy me a dress, can we?"

"Maybe you can borrow something of mine, or Willow's maybe." Inside, Buffy ached. She couldn't even afford to buy her baby sister a new dress for the dance. Her mother always had the money to buy them stuff for special occasions like this.

"Sure." Dawn looked away, trying to hide her disappointment. She had some money, maybe she could ask Spike for a little more. Snorting, she berated herself. Buffy would definitely not go for that idea.

"Dawn, you know we've been tight with our money lately, and the bills need to be paid," she tried to explain to her sister, still knowing that nothing she said could make this situation right.

"I know, Buffy. Don't worry about it." She kept walking.

***

Dawn grabbed the mail out of the box on her way in. She quickly sorted through them, handing the bills to Buffy who accepted them with a sigh. At the very last letter, she let out a squeal overshadowing her previous sadness.

"What is it?" Buffy asked curiously.

"Just something I've been waiting for. I'll tell you about it after I open it." With that, she went bounding up the stairs.

***

Buffy sat at the table once again. It felt nice to finally be able to pay off some of her debt, but even with her job, things didn't look like they would be improving anytime soon.

Pushing her chair back, she headed for the back porch, slipping on a coat to protect from the cold elements. Whenever she was feeling down, the porch always seemed like the best place to be. She took a seat on the steps and looked up at the stars, trying to erase the constant gnaw of worry about her situation.

If things couldn't get any better, she would be forced to sell the house. A tear made its salty way down her cheek to slip from her chin to the stairs.

A weird feeling made its way into her gut. "Spike?"

He stepped out of the shadows. Somehow he always knew when to be there. "What's wrong, luv?"

She ignored the pet name and waved him closer. He took a seat next to her. "Money."

He snorted. "What else is new?" She didn't take the joke in stride. "Sorry, pet." She shrugged. "Heard from the Lil' Bit that you got yourself another job. Heard Captain Cardboard lost you your slave job at the Doublemeat Palace."

"Riley didn't lose me my job. I left because I wanted to." She looked over at him. He was focusing on the stars. "I got a job at the post office. It's not bad. The pay is good and it doesn't leave a greasy smell in my hair."

He chuckled. "Yeah, was meaning to tell you about that." An awkward silence followed.

"Sorry," she whispered.

He shrugged, knowing exactly what she was referring to. "It's my fault. I set myself up."

"No. I told you this the other night already, but I want you to know that I'm really sorry about what happened." She bit her lip and avoided looking him in the eyes.

Spike stared at her face, trying to decipher her meaning. When she didn't look back at him, he snorted. "Yeah, guess you can get back to living, now that you don't have anything holding you down."

"Spike, don't fight with me, please. I don't want to fight with you anymore."

"Fine." He got up. "I guess the only way to achieve that is if I g-"

Dawn burst through the backdoor. "They like it!" Her grin stretched from ear to ear.

"Your vignette?" Spike asked, smiling happily for her.

"Yep! They wanna put it in a collection." She automatically hugged him and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you. I probably would never have done this if you hadn't suggested."

Buffy frowned. "What's going on? Is this the letter? And why does Spike know and not me?"

Dawn laughed nervoulsy. "Yeah, it's the letter. I entered something I wrote in a contest. The people who are holding it are going to make a book of the accepted entries. You get $750 if your poem is selected." She pulled out a check and handed it to Buffy. "I'm thinking about entering other stuff now." She smiled. "And Spike knows because he's the one that suggested I enter the contest."

Buffy looked over at Spike. "You did?" He shrugged. "That's great, Dawnie! I guess you can get that dress now."

Dawn smiled. "You can have the rest."

"Are you sure? I mean, you earned it," Buffy pointed out.

"That's ok. I don't need it." She smiled in reassurance.

"Well, Nibblet, can I hear it now? Now that we can't jinx it," Spike said playfully.

"Sure. I brought my journal down here to read to you two." She lifted up the small book, and settled down on the railing while the two set back down on the steps.

"It's titled "Lilies."" Taking a deep breath, she began. "You know, sometimes, when I look out of the window, my face on my hands, my elbows on my thighs, I watch the leaves of the huge cherry tree across the street move in the wind, shades of green and red cherries ready to be picked, a fence of high hip trees around the garden. As my eyes fill with tears and they slowly run down my cheek and leave a salty taste on my lips before they drop to the ground where they break and leave little scattered lakes behind, my soul feels the light summer breeze that also sways the cherry tree, gently. The orange lilies, the ones that grow in the garden for the first time and the ones my mom is so proud of, they all seem new and unnatural, displaced, the beauty they hold not real, obvious, compared to the old cherry tree that has greeted me day by day on my way to school, on my way home. Maybe you are like the lilies in our garden. You hold beauty that shows, beauty that is obvious. Yet, displaced, placed where you don't belong, you can never be the huge cherry tree across the street that possesses more than beauty, something you can touch without being afraid its beauty might be damaged, broken like a a mirror that no longer displays the desired picture.

"The cherry tree, still swaying its leaves in the wind, seems so much more beautiful. And still, I know how the lilies feel."

***

"Lilies" was written by Chrissi. Thank you for providing inspiration. Please R&R.

*All standard disclaimers apply.


	3. Past All Reality

Becoming Me:  
Past All Reality  
By Evangeline

Thought I should add more to this. I like this series so much, tho I'm not exactly sure the readers do. Oh well.  
***Okay guys, haha, I think my lack of sleep resulted in a mixing up of Buffy's job. I fixed it. Don't worry. It's the post office now again .... :)

***

"Have a nice day," Buffy smiled at her customer. The job was definitely so much better than her slave job at the DMP. Although she hated to admit it, Spike was right. That job was just not for her.

It had been a good month and a half since she had started working at the post office. The bills were slowly being paid off, partially thanks to Dawn's vignette as well as Willow's moving out. She was also able to spend more time with Dawn and Willow both. Willow was getting better, taking it one day at a time, just like Buffy. Xander was slowly mending his relationship with Anya, taking more time to live their lives. The wedding would wait for a very long while.

And Spike. God, Spike. She hadn't seen him since that day on the porch. She winced lightly at the memory of his charred crypt. Had he found somewhere else to live? Or had he left altogether?

She was pulled from her thoughts as another customer approached her desk. Putting on a smile, she started the process all over again.

***

Buffy slung her purse over her shoulder, pulling out her keys. "I'm gonna head home!" she called towards Lourdes, her manager.

The aging Filipino woman smiled kindly at Buffy. "I want you to take care. Sunnydale is a very dangerous place at night."

Buffy grinned in response. "Don't I know." She had taken a double shift that night at Dawn's insistence. Overtime pay was quite nice.

"I have something for you, child," Lourdes called her over.

"Yes, Auntie?" Buffy approached the woman, having learned the Filipino show of respect.

Lourdes produced a small crucifix on a string of beads.

"A cross?" Buffy asked, eyebrows raised. "I have lots of those."

"A rosary," she clarified. "Please wear it when you walk home at night. I worry for you."

Buffy smiled. Lourdes reminded her so much of her own mother. Accepting the gift, Buffy replied, "Thank you, Auntie." She smiled, "I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Pulling the door to the post office closed behind her, she wrapped the beads around her hand. She had a stake tightly in her other hand but stared up absently at the stars. The balls of light twinkled white and yellow against the velvet blue blanket of a sky. They hovered ominously over Earth, almost as if protecting its inhabitants.

Her gaze was drawn back to the rosary in her hands. Black polished beads gave way to a medium-sized cross with Jesus Christ stretched across the holy symbol. Lourdes was a devout Roman Catholic and had explained the rosary and common prayers to her over several lunch breaks at Buffy's insistence. Such fierce loyalty to such a God was incredible. People have always needed someone to worship and believe in. Lines from the 'Our Father,' 'Hail Mary,' and 'Glory Be' flew through her mind. People had been worshipping the Holy Trinity for thousands of years, people the slayers protected. How would they understand the truth? That the monsters that go bump in the night are real? They were on the mark, however, with their version of the afterlife. It was something worth fighting for. Turning the beads lightly in her fingers, she recited the 'Hail Mary' silently, feeling a peace and serenity settle over her body and spirit with every word.

***

Dawn glanced over the top of her cards at Spike. She had invited him over to play a game of poker with her, taking advantage of Buffy's double shift.

"So watcha got?" Dawn asked, grinning over her good hand.

"Full house," Spike answered, setting his cards on the coffee table in front of him. "You?"

"Beat you again," Dawn grinned widely. "Royal flush," and she displayed the ten through Ace of hearts.

"How the hell does she do that?" Spike asked himself, incredulous. "I swear, I wouldn't be surprised if she was cheating."

She smiled, her grin reaching from ear to ear. "Just be glad we're not playing for money."

"Enter anything else?" Spike asked, changing the topic.

"Actually, yeah," Dawn answered. "A couple things. I got a letter back for one of them already," she mused. "Just today." Reaching into the desk drawer, she produced another check for $750. "Want to hear it?"

"Sure," Spike answered. "But then I've got to be on my way."

"Cool," Dawn answered. Reaching back over to the desk, she plucked a notebook off the top and flipped furiously to the right page. "Here we go. This time, it's a poem. It's titled, "Past All Reality,"" she cleared her throat. "We lie in that other darkness, ourselves / Where the eerie crescent moon casts dark shadows across the room through the small window; / Where the crow calls coldly, fear and anxiety hanging in the air, a bad omen sure to fulfill itself; / Where breathing is constricted and the heart pulses fast and erratically; / Where the air freezes, a small cloud forming on contact with a warm exhalation; / Where all senses are on alert, but the mind vainly attempts to convince itself otherwise; / Where the eyes search wildly, certain something or someone is watching, hidden; / Where the demons and imps come out to play, slowly tearing away at all truth, all hope; / Where all light is non-existent and terror reigns supreme; / Where all reality slowly drifts form our minds and bodies; / Where sanity is swallowed not by demons but by the very mind of the believer. / We lie in that other darkness."

Spike grinned. "Speaking from personal experience?"

"This is the Hellmouth and I'm a thousand year old mystical key. What do you think?" Dawn returned his smile.

"As much as I love spending time with you," Spike glanced at the clock, "it's late." He gestured to the time, midnight. "You need to sleep."

"It's Friday, Spike!" She pleaded, tugging at the black leather of his coat. "Please "

"Actually, he's right," a voice interrupted from the kitchen. Buffy had entered through the back door much to Dawn's dismay. "What is Spike doing here?" she asked Dawn irately.

"He just came to keep me company," Dawn immediately jumped to his defense. "I called him and asked him to come over."

"Wait," Buffy frowned. "Since when does Spike have a phone?"

"Since he moved because some bitch blew up his cr-"

"Enough!" Buffy cut in. "Good night, Spike. You can show yourself out."

Spike didn't meet her eyes. "Right then. I'll see you later. Sweet dreams, Bit," he kissed her on the forehead.

Dawn stared at the door for several seconds after he left. She swung her eyes back to Buffy. "Why do you treat him like that, Buffy?"

"What?" Buffy asked, surprised.

"You heard me," Dawn glared. "He loved you so much and you treat him like crap."

"There are so many things you have no idea about," Buffy sighed, setting her bag down on the floor and sinking into the soft armchair. "Things between Spike and me are complicated. You wouldn't understand."

Dawn looked confused but still ventured further. "Try me."

Buffy looked up. Should she tell Dawn? She bit her lip. It would be best to tell her sister first and not have her find out from somewhere else. "Spike and I had a a relationship, I guess, for a while."

Dawn sat on the sofa. "What type of relationship?"

"It wasn't healthy, that's for sure," Buffy allowed. "We both hurt each other very much." She frowned. "Or at least I hurt him very much."

"So you guys were really together, huh? Why'd you break up, then?"

Buffy shook her head. "It was wrong. I was using him and " she trailed off.

"You can't get past the fact that he's a vampire," Dawn said accusingly. "He worships the ground you walk on and you think he's nothing more than an evil thing!"

"It's so much more than that, Dawnie," Buffy said almost pleadingly. "With Angel-"

"Angel's gone, Buffy!" Dawn interrupted. "Gone! And Spike's still here!" Then she quieted. "Maybe God or the Powers or whoever wants us to meet a few wrong people before meeting the right one so when we finally meet that person, we'll know how to be grateful."

Buffy considered her sister, her head tilted at a slight angle. "When did you get so smart?"

"I've always been smart, you just haven't noticed," Dawn wrote it off with a grin.

Buffy sighed. "I promise to try to fix things with Spike, but that doesn't mean we're getting back together."

"I know," Dawn agreed. "Do you wanna go see him at his place tomorrow?" Dawn asked hopefully. "It's Saturday so I don't have school and you don't have work," she prompted. "Please?"

"I guess," she looked up. "So Spike's got a new place?"

***

Dawn knocked on the heavy maroon colored door, shutting the screen door back over, hoping desperately that Spike was home as Buffy nervously surveyed the area.

"Door's unlocked," a voice called through the door after several seconds.

Dawn grinned, letting herself into the small apartment, pulling Buffy in by the sleeve. Locking the door behind her, she called out, "Spike?"

"In here, Nibblet," Spike answered from the next room.

They walked into the adjoining room to see Spike sitting in the same old arm chair, sipping from a warm mug of blood, his attention focused on the same small television set. "Hey Nibblet, Slayer," he greeted, never removing his gaze from the tv.

"Hi Spike," Dawn returned enthusiastically, dropping onto the sofa.

"Hi," Buffy added kindly. "How's the new place?" She hesitantly took a seat next to Dawn.

"'s ok, I guess," he answered offhandedly.

"Passions?" Dawn questioned, referring to the tv. "Is it a rerun?"

Spike nodded, scowling. "I miss a week of it and when my telly is finally set up, they show a bloody rerun!"

As Spike and Dawn chattered on about the stupid soap opera, she looked curiously about the room. The walls were bare except for a small clock near the door. Glancing down, she saw a red oriental rug. She remembered the dozens of rugs that once coated the floor of his crypt and felt a wave of guilt wash over her.

"I'm sorry, Spike," she blurted out.

Two surprised faces veered quickly in her direction.

"I'm sorry about your crypt."

Dawn hurriedly stood. "I'm going to use your bathroom."

They stared silently at one another until they heard the lock snap on the bathroom door.

Sighing, Spike flipped the television off. "Cheeky brat," he muttered to himself.

Buffy bit her lip. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

Spike shrugged. "Should've known better."

"You never did explain what you were doing with those eggs."

"I told you already," he protested. "I was holding them for a friend." He took a swig from the mug on the coffee table. "For some money."

"Why do you need money?" Buffy asked, confused.

"I didn't need money, Slayer," he answered. "You did though."

"Oh," Buffy replied lightly. She fiddled with her hands in her lap. "I hate this," she whispered to herself.

"You're not the only one," Spike muttered in return. "What are you doing here?" he asked suddenly.

Buffy opened her mouth as if to respond but shrugged instead. "I hate what's happening," she allowed. "I liked what we were, before everything," she elaborated. "We were becoming friends."

"We can't ever be friends, Slayer. Haven't you figured that out yet?" Spike glared.

"I know," Buffy answered, lightly picking at her nail polish. "But can't we at least try, for Dawn?"

Spike was slow in answering. He looked everywhere but her, his hands fiddling with his mug. "For Dawn," he agreed.

Buffy nodded as she glanced once more around the room. "This is all you could save?"

Spike shrugged, surprised at her eagerness to start a conversation with him. "I just grabbed whatever looked salvageable. Didn't really care about half of the stuff in there."

"You plan on staying here long?"

"I think so."

"You could invite the girls over. I'm sure they'd love decorating with you."

Spike lifted his eyes to hers curiously. Then he allowed a small smile to grace his face, not his usual smirk but a real earnest smile. "I'd like that."

The lock to the bathroom popped and their heads shot towards the sound.

Turning back, Spike considered her silently. "I still love you," he told her quietly.

Buffy smiled softly. "I know."

***

Short, but I was writing this at 4 in the morning, so no whining! The poem, "Past All Reality," is written by none other than me!! It's one of my more interesting works. And Lourdes is based on my grandmother, sweet lady! God rest her soul ... Please review! 

xoxo  
Eva


End file.
